


The Basement

by Sed



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:31:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4451192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We are <i>not</i> spending the rest of this war in this cellar, <i>are we?</i>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Basement

**Author's Note:**

> In addition to being a PWP, this fic is also something of an AU. In this, when the Dominion pulls back into Cardassian space, the Federation and its allies decide against pressing their advantage. That leaves our three revolutionaries truly stranded on Cardassia Prime, and for much longer than they actually were in the series.
> 
> Please note that this is **not** in any way attached to my _Revelation_ series. This is a stand-alone story.

The basement was quiet, the lights were off. Kira was trying to sleep—actually only pretending to sleep—while Damar dozed on and off on the cot behind hers. Garak had gone upstairs hours ago with the excuse that he desired to find himself a midnight snack. It was one of many similar disappearing acts, which he claimed were innocent, but Kira knew better; he was out prowling the city, searching for some way to get them out of the basement for good. Or maybe he was just trying to escape the dark confines of their exile, and that offered him a decent excuse.  
  
They began their private internment hoping for a swift end to the war, or even just a brief lull that would afford them a chance to escape. Unfortunately for them, it seemed the warring powers of the Alpha Quadrant had other ideas. On one of Garak’s nighttime jaunts, he had learned that the Dominion was pulling back, retreating further into Cardassian space to set up a hard line that they obviously hoped the Federation wouldn't dare to cross. It worked, and a sort of cold war took hold, leaving everyone in limbo as each side armed for the new offensive. That left the three stranded rebels with nowhere to go, and nothing to do but wait. Once, and only once, they had considered attempting to spark a revolution in the Cardassian populace, but none of them were particularly confident that it would take. The people seemed long past the point of standing up to their Dominion masters, and in truth no one wanted to see innocent civilians cut down in the streets all so that Kira, Garak, and Damar could have an excuse to finally leave Mila’s basement. With the Dominion hunkered down around Cardassia Prime, they were breeding Jem’Hadar at an alarming rate, and it seemed as if they now outnumbered the populace almost two-to-one. It would be a genocide, even _if_ they managed it.  
  
And so, grudgingly, they accepted their lot, and waited out the end of the war in the darkness. Garak and Damar seemed more comfortable with the circumstances than Kira—Garak’s occasional need to get outside notwithstanding. For Kira, being trapped in a musty, cramped basement, waiting to learn one day if they had won or lost the war, if her friends were alive or dead, was utter torment. During the days she paced, and at night she lay awake, thinking, plotting, and scheming until exhaustion overtook her. Each new day started the cycle all over again, until the routine became almost comforting in its familiarity. At least it wasn’t getting any worse, she reasoned.  
  
Until it got worse.  
  
Until she started to feel the discomfort in a far more _personal_ way.  
  
That night, while Garak skulked through the city streets above, and Damar nodded off behind her, Kira was wide awake. But she wasn’t plotting or scheming. She was trying to decide if it was worth the risk of being caught making a fool of herself to indulge in a little relief, just once. The body had needs, after all, and it seemed hers was particularly determined to ignore her circumstances and insist upon its desires. Arching her neck and craning her head over the back of the pillow, she cast a quick glance at Damar. He was asleep again. The basement door couldn’t be opened without making enough noise to alert everyone in the room, and so there was no risk of being discovered by Garak, whom Kira had decided would almost certainly be the worse of the two if she was caught in the act. Damar was an idiot, but she decided that he was just as likely to pretend he hadn’t seen anything for his own sake. Garak, on the other hand, might just tuck the information away to use at a later date, for any number of reasons she didn’t want to imagine. “ _Did you know that I once caught the colonel with her pants down? Quite literally, in fact,_ ” she imagined him saying, complete with that knowing grin of his.  
  
No, she definitely wouldn’t want Garak to find out.  
  
Taking care to observe extra caution, she checked Damar one more time, relieved to find him still sleeping soundly. With all the care possible to be as quiet as a rusted Cardassian cot would allow, she reached down and slipped her hand under the waistband of her pants, down between her legs, and slid one finger into place. A small sigh of relief escaped her barely parted lips, and she froze. In the silence she heard a gentle snore behind her head, and Damar shifted in his sleep. Kira continued.  
  
She imagined it was so much easier for the other two to take care of their own needs. That had been her experience in the resistance, at least. And everyone _knew_ what went on in the dark. They were simply too polite to say anything. Or maybe they just understood that sometimes it was much easier to see to something yourself, instead of bothering with the complications that came with a second set of hands. Kira had never prided herself on being a master of stealth, but she knew how to maintain her privacy in a room full of people sleeping within arm’s reach. It had been a while, but she was confident she could still manage it.  
  
Working herself up slowly, despite the greater risk of interruption the longer she took, Kira willed her body to relax. It was so much better that way. With her free hand she palmed at her breasts, sliding her fingertips over sensitive skin that rapidly hardened and peaked with each stroke. It felt wonderful, and long overdue; in her eagerness she lifted her hips without thinking, and the cot creaked in protest, but she was too far into her own pleasure to notice or care.  
  
That was, of course, until she heard Damar’s voice behind her.  
  
“…What are you doing?” he asked.  
  
Kira made a sound like a startled animal and withdrew her hands from beneath her clothing. She turned over on the cot and pulled back into a defensive crouch. “ _Nothing,_ ” she said in a rattled whisper.  
  
Damar was on his side, supporting his weight on one elbow as he eyed her suspiciously. Kira wondered if he could see her flushed cheeks in the dark, or the sweat that had beaded on her brow. In the low light she watched his eyes roam over her body and come to a stop at her heaving chest, where her efforts there still showed through the thin fabric of her undershirt. “If you’d like, I can leave,” he offered, still staring.  
  
“It’s not safe for you to leave,” Kira snapped, suddenly furious—with herself for being so weak, and with him for not just letting it go and pretending it hadn’t happened like she thought he would. She was even angry at Garak for leaving, and presenting an opportunity for her to end up in such a humiliating position. In the back of her mind a small voice reminded her that this was very much her own fault, not theirs, but she still parceled out the blame nevertheless.  
  
“A few minutes won’t—”  
  
“It’s _fine_ ,” she ground through clenched teeth. Straightening herself, she left the cot and stormed across the room. It was darker over there, and she wanted to believe she could hide her embarrassment more easily in the shadows. “Just go back to sleep.”  
  
But Damar didn’t go back to sleep. He got up too, and with a level of audacity Kira couldn’t imagine one man possessing, came over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I understand,” he said, in what he must have thought sounded like a reassuring tone. Kira only heard it as condescension. “Really, I do.”  
  
She threw his hand from her shoulder and rounded on him. “I’m sure Mila and Garak appreciate this kinder, _more considerate_ you, but try to remember that I still hate you, Damar. I don’t want your comfort, I don’t want your understanding. And I definitely don’t want you to touch me, _ever_.”  
  
Despite what she said, she wanted him to understand; to see through the aggravation and accept that she needed to be angry to preserve what little dignity she had left in that basement.  
  
But he was Damar, and Damar was an idiot.  
  
He switched from compassionate to infuriated in the blink of an eye. “It’s no wonder your own comrades sent you here,” he muttered viciously. “I’d certainly take the first opportunity to get rid of you if I could.”  
  
“Shut up and go back to sleep,” Kira shot back.  
  
“Why, so you can find a dark corner and finish in shame?”  
  
Without even stopping to think, she slapped him. The sound was like a small explosion in the otherwise silent basement. In the aftermath they both stood frozen, too stunned to speak. Then in a motion so quick it caught Kira entirely by surprise, Damar reached out, grasping her wrists in his hands. He crowded her back against the wall and pinned her there with her arms held above her head. Something all-too-familiar stirred in Kira then, with his heavier body flush against hers. She made a meaningless effort to pull herself free from his grasp, and then promptly gave up.  
  
They might have stayed that way for no more than seconds, but it could have been hours; everything else fell away, forgotten in the heat and tension that formed between them. Damar’s chest heaved as he stared her down in the darkness, his anger just barely detectable in the dim, blue light that filtered through the ventilation fans above. Something coiled tight and unwilling to be ignored had settled in Kira’s chest, and it urged her to move, to thrash against him. Just not in a way that would ever earn her freedom. She _knew_ what her body wanted, and though she hated herself for it, the desire was overriding her judgment.  
  
“I would have thought someone like you might have more experience committing disgraceful acts in the dark,” Damar whispered in her ear. “Or maybe it’s that you _wanted_ me to know.”  
  
“Is that the fantasy you’ve been leaning on to keep yourself going, Damar? It needs work.”  
  
He switched his hold on her wrists to just one hand, and without any preamble or pause, swiftly reached down between their bodies. She felt his palm slide under her waistband, past her abdomen, and then with a smug self-assurance that made her want to slap him again, he slipped two fingers into the cleft between her legs. She squirmed in his grasp, but the effort was just as insincere as before. Damar seized the opportunity to claim her mouth with his, and there he held her. Somewhere in that furious kiss he let go of her arms, but she never made another move to push him away; instead, her hands blindly sought access beneath _his_ clothes, and he obliged her groping fingers by undoing the catch of his pants. When she finally had his hard length in hand, Damar groaned into her mouth and rocked his hips forward, grinding his erection between their bodies. His skilled fingers never stopped moving between her legs, urging Kira on as she stroked him.  
  
Then, with no warning and without any grace whatsoever, Damar pulled his hand away, broke the kiss, and spun her around. He unceremoniously shoved her forward over a stack of crates and yanked at the waistband of her pants, baring her completely from behind. With one hand he reached up and grasped a fistful of her shirt, and with the other he spread her open, fingers slipping over her slick skin as he moved into place.  
  
“ _Damar_ …” she gasped, but he showed no interest in stopping to discuss the matter. She felt him, hard and alluringly hot, at first no more than a thick presence hovering on the edge until he pushed forward and entered her. In the first stroke she could feel every hard scale as he slid into place, the friction making her cry out in unexpected pleasure. He paused only a moment, and then pulled out again just as slowly as before. Kira let her head fall forward and lost herself in the sensation of being filled. Damar’s hand left her shirt and he gripped her hips tight as he drove forward again and again, faster each time until he moved with so much power and purpose that the crate Kira was draped across began to slide forward atop the rest of the stack. The basement was filled with the sound of his hips striking her backside, and the needy, shameless moans that escaped Kira as Damar sought to go deeper with each push.  
  
“Is that—” her teeth snapped together when he jerked his hips without warning “—is that the best you can do?” she mocked, trying to look over her shoulder.  
  
“I can put that quick tongue of yours to better use, if this doesn’t suit you,” he offered. His voice was low and rough, and it was clear which option _he_ preferred.  
  
Kira grinned until he rolled his hips upward on a thrust, turning her smug smile into a look of open lust. With no care for keeping quiet she let each breath escape as a groan, hitched at intervals as Damar moved in her. Eventually, and with considerable effort, she regained some of her wits and said breathlessly, “It’s not the speed of my _tongue_ you need to worry about.” It earned her a slap on the rear, and another hard shove that stroked her somewhere deep and unfairly gratifying.  
  
Slowly she realized that she could hear him grunting quietly with each thrust, as though he didn’t dare admit how good it felt. Gripped by a strange desire to break him of that control, Kira first tried to push back and meet his thrusts, but Damar held her still—on purpose, she imagined bitterly. When it was obvious that wouldn’t work, she clenched tight around him, and suddenly his careful rhythm became a stuttered mess, leaving him moaning and gasping curses as he bent down to drape himself over her back. He let go of her hips then, and with both hands reached up to cup her breasts, kneading them gently in his palms. The dull ache from where his fingertips had dug into the skin of her hips felt like it might become a bruise later, but the pain quickly faded into the thrum of pleasure that threaded its way along her body.  
  
When Damar kissed her neck Kira lowered her head to bare more skin. She could feel herself losing control, edging closer and closer to climax with each passing second. Damar, on the other hand, showed no signs of slowing his pace; she briefly wondered if he really had meant it when he said that he understood what she was feeling. But that, and all other coherent thought, was wiped from her mind when she felt searching fingers return to their previous place between her legs. With the first touch she inhaled sharply and bucked her hips out of reflex. Damar bit down gently on her back, and he worked his fingers quickly, expertly pushing Kira up to the edge until she was toppling over it, her muscles clenching tight and her body shaking as she came. Through it all Damar held on and continued to move, refusing to let up until the very last second. Then she felt him shudder against her, and his body went taut and still. The familiar surge of pressure that followed was accompanied by a pleasing warmth as he pulled out and stood up straight. It all felt so much better than it had any right to.  
  
Kira remained where she was; she could hardly catch her breath, and moving seemed out of the question at the moment. She heard Damar pulling up his pants behind her, and then the creak of his cot as he sat down. When she finally pulled herself up from the crate, she remained facing the wall until her own uniform was back in place. Straightening it all did nothing to hide the evidence of what they had been up to, but she resolved to clean that before anyone had a chance to discover it.  
  
“I hope you feel better,” Damar said with a happy sigh. The sound of his voice was startling in the silence. “I certainly do.”  
  
“Of course you do,” Kira snapped cynically.  
  
“Come now, it wasn’t that bad, was it? I like to think I have a few talents outside of my military training.”  
  
Kira sighed and began looking around for something she could use to cover herself while she cleaned her uniform. “Let’s not force small talk,” she said.  
  
“We could always go again,” Damar suggested, his voice playfully upbeat despite Kira’s obvious irritation. “I don’t know about you, but my schedule is clear.”  
  
“You _would_ be willing to risk getting caught like this by Garak or Mila.”  
  
“Mila is almost certainly asleep, and Garak won’t be back for hours.”  
  
“He’s already been _gone_ for hours. Don’t they store any _clothing_ down here?” she said, slamming the lid of a crate back in place.  
  
“You can rinse your clothes in that basin, right over there,” Damar pointed out helpfully.  
  
Kira turned and fixed him with a flat stare. He was sitting up on his cot, bright-eyed and clearly eager for more, by the looks of it. She wanted to hate him for it, but there _was_ something oddly appealing about his offer. “I have nothing else to wear,” she reminded him, anxious to think of something—anything—else.  
  
Finally tired of waiting, Damar left the cot and came over behind her. He mouthed her neck while his hands roamed the front of her body. “Then don’t wear anything,” he whispered in her ear. He started to push at the top of her pants, and Kira didn’t fight him as he slipped the cloth down over her hips again, letting them go to pool on the floor around her ankles. He helped her out of her shirt, and she leaned back against him, enjoying the feel of a solid frame supporting hers.  
  
“This can’t leave here,” she said, fully aware of how foolish they were being. “You know that, right?”  
  
“If we ever leave here, I swear on the prosperity of the Cardassian Union that nothing we do goes with us.” He paused. “Unless you’d like it to.”  
  
Kira stepped away, toward her own cot. She pulled Damar by the hand behind her. “I think we’re done talking,” she said. “Take your clothes off.”


End file.
